


Bleed Out

by Dusty_Forgotten



Category: Deadpool - All Media Types, Marvel, Spider-Man - All Media Types
Genre: Angst, Character Study, Gen, Gore, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Inappropriate Humor, Tension
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-28
Updated: 2016-09-28
Packaged: 2018-08-18 06:34:23
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 571
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8152454
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dusty_Forgotten/pseuds/Dusty_Forgotten
Summary: Later, as Deadpool's poised to make a dramatic exit, he insists the afterthought, "I went hard at soccer!"





	

**Author's Note:**

  * Translation into Русский available: [Истечь кровью](https://archiveofourown.org/works/13098270) by [morcabre](https://archiveofourown.org/users/morcabre/pseuds/morcabre)



Deadpool is living up to his name as little more than a tangled pile of bone and muscle and blood— there’s not that much blood  _ in _ a person, and certainly should not be outside. Wade Wilson’s mangled and decapitated head rolls off the rooftop, but is rescued by a shot of webbing, and reeled in to rest in Spider-Man’s hands. He walks it over to the heap of viscera, eyes watering from the overpowering smell of it, and presses it to the gushing stump of a neck. The seconds are agonizing before the flesh knits together, and the merc’s gasping with fresh life, choking like a drowned man— which he may be, in his own blood. 

“Spidey, buddy!” he sputters just as soon as his vocal cords reform. “Lean a little closer, I can’t ogle your junk from this angle.”

He rolls his eyes, ignoring the merc’s infamous mouth— which is definitely smiling under that mask. Ribs break through a gaping chest wound, ligament and adipose chasing after. 

“Does that hurt?” the teen can’t help but ask, still sitting at the edge of a sanguinary— well, not puddle. Lake, really.

“Nope.” He sits up with abdominal muscles alone, Peter can tell because his only arm is severed above the elbow. He addresses that first, stretching for the discarded lower half of the appendage with his foot, and kicks it over, jamming the stumps together. His cancer does the rest. Wade stands easily enough, but that’s probably because one of his legs is on completely backwards. He frowns, and grabs it by his only hand. “But this will— you, at least. ‘Cause you’re listening.”

There’s a horrid crack as he twists the bone around, which nearly covers his pained grunt. Peter winces sympathetically.

“Ah, c’mon, don’t be a baby,” Wade grumbles. Peter assumes he means joining the search for his wayward limb, and stands to aid. “You see these hardcore movie soldiers biting down on their belts and ramming dislocated shoulders into walls?”

“… Yeah?” Peter responds lamely, because he’s found another leg, but Wade’s already got both of his.

“Whiny, tiny, babies. Dislocations are a cakewalk after you’ve done it once. Watch your own rib go through your eyeball, then we’ll talk. Hell, just pass a kidney stone— well, that’s not really fair, I’d rather carve out my own kidney with a spoon than pass another kidney stone. Luckily, I can!”

He sounds so excited for a moment, Peter is horrified he’s going to demonstrate, cutlery be damned— but, no. He’s just found the other arm. Wade rams it into socket, and it sways limply as his body works on sewing itself together.

“See? No problemo,” he says, “been doing that since I was nine.”

Peter pauses in his survey of the wreckage an all-out brawl with Deadpool left… whoever he was up against. It seems Peter was late to the party— like most he attends, in an effort to procrastinate long enough he misses them entirely. “… How does a nine-year-old dislocate their shoulder?”

Deadpool goes still, and when he turns, slowly, the only remainder of his dismemberment is the bloodstains. Peter eyes the hilts peeking over the merc’s back. It’s strange to think of a mask as emotionless, but Wade’s usually so animated, that’s what comes to mind. His voice is much the same. “… You ever get that feeling you shouldn’t have said something?”

“Yeah,” Peter replies stiffly, “I’m getting it.”


End file.
